


First Blood

by ConsultingTimeLord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dark Will, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingTimeLord/pseuds/ConsultingTimeLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will draws his first blood under the watchful eye of Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of ficlets following the same story line. I may just stop at three or keep going, either way, I hope you like it.

It was easy for him to do. Remarkably easy. It was no different than one of his empathetic imaginations. At least until Will opened his eyes and it was all still there. 

He had waited in Lounds’ apartment, in the dark, stiller and more silent than the air. He felt the tension in his bones; he felt the uncertainty and certainty mixing together like blood until he didn’t know what he felt. Fear, excitement, the adrenaline pumping through his veins in the moment. His hand clenched the hilt of the blade until his fingers started to prickle, like needles encouraging him to drop it and turn back. Yet, in turning back, all he would find was him standing there, just to push him forward once more.

He waited with bated breath and a dry mouth as all of the emotions evaporated his saliva and his sense. Then the key entered the lock and turned, clicking as loud as a glass might shatter. Everything sounded just as loud in the silence. When the door creaked open, still he waited. One with the darkness, completely invisible, until she closed the door and set her keys down on a nearby table, exposing her back to him. Then he struck.

She never saw him coming, never made a sound that wasn’t muffled by Will’s hand covering her mouth. She needed to stop. She needed to stop the lies, so he made her stop with one swift, jagged cut. Blood sprayed out, hitting the walls like a Jackson Pollock, covering the arm that held the blade. She gurgled, drowning in it as it poured from her neck, nothing more than a butchered animal. 

Then he opened his eyes and it became real.

Will dropped the knife first, then her, and they both clattered to the ground in a pool of dark blood. He covered his mouth, screaming internally but worried it might actually burst out. It was too real, the adrenaline and the shock. The only sound he could manage was gasping for breath that never seemed to reach his lungs. He scrambled back, slipping in the blood after a few steps. He shut his eyes tight as he fell, waiting for the crash, but a pair of arms under his saved him.

He relaxed a little into the hold but his heart was still beating faster than he could count. The arms behind him helped him back to his feet, holding him until he could stand on his own. Will turned to look at him, at Hannibal, and felt his legs give out again.

He crumpled to the floor but he was eased down by Hannibal, who dropped with him, moving gracefully to kneel on the floor. Hannibal held Will in his lap as he struggled to breathe, the lack of air choking back sobs. He held onto the front of Hannibal’s suit, staining the grey fabric red as Hannibal brushed a careful hand across his face, through his hair.

“This is good, isn’t it, Will,” he said softly as Will shook in his arms.

Slowly comprehending his words, he looked in to Hannibal’s eyes and nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

The water swirling down the sink changed from red to a light pink as Hannibal ran a cloth across Will’s hands. Most of the blood washed off easily, a dried crust that just needed a little help to fall off, but the rest seemed to have seeped into his pores, determined to remind Will of what he’d done. He’d dropped into a shocked stupor after he realized what happened, barely able to walk without help, without Hannibal.

Hannibal calmly sat Will in a chair and took charge of the cleanup, getting rid of the body and blood as if neither had ever existed. It was all a blur to Will as he stood in the bathroom of Hannibal’s home, letting him wipe away the death. He was so gentle and meticulous, cleaning every stained part of his flesh until it looked normal again, like wiping his conscience clean. Will was grateful, even if he couldn’t find the words to express it just then.

“Give me your clothes,” Hannibal said to him after disposing of the bloody cloth.

Will stared at him with a bewildered expression. “Um…”

“I have something for you to wear, if that is what you’re hesitant about,” he said patiently, waiting in the beautifully decorated bathroom until he complied.

Will stared for a few more moments before nodding and unbuttoning his shirt. He handed over the blood-stained garment and removed his pants as well, leaving him standing in his undershirt and boxers and feeling quite uncomfortable. He crossed his arms and stared at his feet, shifting uncomfortably. When he looked up, Hannibal was watching him with a small, almost predatory smile.

Will swallowed hard, wrapping his arms around himself a little tighter.

“Follow me,” Hannibal interrupted. “I’ll show you to the guest room where I’ve laid out your clothes.”

“Thank you,” Will said, finally able to form words.

Hannibal inclined his head as an acknowledgement before leading the way out of the bathroom. Will followed him dutifully out and up the stairs into the second room on the right. The room was painted light blue with a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and two end tables with lamps on each one. Other than that, it was bare, void of personality. A dress shirt and trousers were neatly folded on the bed, waiting to be worn. Will looked from them to Hannibal, who was turning to leave.

“Wait,” he said, stopping him in his tracks. “Please, don’t.”

Hannibal turned slightly, regarding him with subdued interest. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t… don’t go.”

He cocked his head to the side a little in question but turned to face him. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to be alone right now. I—I can’t.”

Hannibal smiled a little, looking at Will as though he were the most endearing being. “It’s late. I think you need to rest, Will.”

Will nodded, glancing at the bed and noticing how enticing it looked. “Just… stay. Please.”

Hannibal nodded compliantly. “I’ll stay.”

He led Will to the bed and pulled back the covers for him so he could climb in. As he got settled, Hannibal removed his jacket, tie, and shoes, folding them and arranging them carefully on top of the dresser. He moved the clothes he picked out for Will and set them beside his own before slipping into the bed on the other side. Will laid there awkwardly for a few seconds, each keeping to their own sides, until Hannibal grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close.

Will ran rigid, momentarily startled until he relaxed into the warmth of Hannibal at his back, his arm wrapped protectively around his waist. The weight of the night’s events lifted and the tiredness clawed its way to the surface. Hannibal rested his chin on top of Will’s dark curls as Will comfortably drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The switch had been flipped and he couldn’t turn it off. He didn’t want to. This time there was more confidence, more certainty. Will held the knife in his hand with a gentle grip, like a brush to a canvas rather than a blade. Hannibal placed a careful hand on the small of his back, standing at Will’s side. They turned to look at each other, electricity crackling between them.

They stood in Hannibal’s kitchen, every surface gleaming from thorough cleaning and care. Before them, in one of the chairs from the dinner table, sat a woman, wrapped up with rope like a present just for Will. They had taken her together, fresh from the street on a late night walk. Will didn’t know her name, he didn’t need to know, he just knew that she had been alone and ripe for the taking. So Hannibal took her, like someone buying their significant other a gift, and presented her to him with a bow and a piece of duct tape over her mouth.

She represented his training wheels, his first confident kill. She was the first step to him realizing his full potential. 

Hannibal let his hand wander forward to Will’s waist, drawing him close. “Try not to damage the good organs, William,” he whispered, his fingers trailing across his back as he stepped away to give Will space to work.

The woman looked scared, eyes wide, blood pumping hard through her veins. Her brown hair was disheveled, hanging limply in and around her face. Will stepped forward and knelt down in front of her, looking her over like she were an equation that needed solving. She sobbed softly, the sound muffed by the tape, as Will concentrated with his imagination. 

Swift, sure strokes, carving the flesh with precision. Across the abdomen, up the sternum, across the throat. Shallow cuts, damaging only to flesh and veins. Screaming, big, brown eyes bulging. Will looked up into those eyes as tears ran from them.

“This is my design,” he said, his voice heavy with darkness.

He struck out, just as he imagined it, slicing open her abdomen and up her sternum, blood pouring from her like water as she screamed. He finished with her throat, stopping the noise while color and life drained from her, pooling at her feet on the floor.

Her blood dripped from Will’s knife as he wiped the blood off of his face with his clean hand. She slumped forward as the final spark extinguished. Dead. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. He did it, no panic, no remorse. He turned to face Hannibal, who was watching him with a proud smile and a light in his eyes.

“How did I do?” Will asked, approaching his new mentor of death.

“Wonderfully,” Hannibal said, cupping the side of Will’s face.

He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Hannibal moved his hand down, brushing his fingertips down his cheek and along his jawline until they rested under Will’s chin. He forced his head up to the perfect angle where he could lean down for a kiss. Will dropped the knife and his eyes shot open as soon as their lips touched but a reassuring hand through his hair calmed him down.

He kissed back, letting Hannibal part his lips for their tongues to meet, and placed a bloody hand on the side of Hannibal’s face to draw him closer. Hannibal gripped Will’s curls and pulled, maintaining his dominance over him and Will conceded. He whimpered a little from the pain but that only made him pull harder. The kisses became frantic, starved, until Hannibal grabbed Will by the throat and slammed him against the nearest wall.

He squeezed and Will struggled for breath but he didn’t look scared. Hannibal released his grip and stroked Will’s cheekbone with his thumb, smearing the blood. He kissed him again, soft and sweet, an apology. His hand trailed down to grab Will’s and led him away from the blood and the body toward a room with a closed door. He opened it to an ornate bedroom. Hannibal’s bedroom.

“What’s going on?” Will asked, looking from Hannibal to the bed.

“You did so well,” Hannibal said, a darkness flitting across his eyes. “You deserve a reward.”

He pulled Will into his arms and bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood before slamming the door shut.


	4. Chapter 4

A man ran through the woods as fast as his feet would take him, weaving through the trees with the skill granted to wolves, deer, and those who only had fear left to keep them moving. Hannibal didn’t give chase. He didn’t have to. The man thought he was running for his life, but he was running to his death.

Hannibal smiled to himself at his vantage point on a hill, able to see down to where the trap was set. Will was in another part of the woods, the back-up plan in case the scared man decided to run off course, but they rarely did. Right on time, the man in a torn suit flew across the ground and straight into the waiting teeth of a bear trap.

His scream rang out like a morbid song as it dug in to the bone of his leg, one that Hannibal could close his eyes and hum or elicit from a few strokes of piano keys. Hannibal savored the sound before ambling down the hill to finish off his captured prey.

The man bent down and tried to pry the teeth apart but they were lodged in his flesh. Hannibal pulled a blade from his suit jacket as he approached, twirling it in his hands with the skill of a hunter or a chef. The trapped man didn’t hear him coming until Hannibal chose to make himself known. A deliberate step on a twig caused the man to look up, his eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. When his eyes settled on the knife in Hannibal’s hand another scream tore through him.

“Scream all you like,” he said. “There is no help for you here.”

“Please, don’t kill me. Please,” the man begged through involuntary tears.

“I’m afraid I must,” he said as he walked around the man, trying to get behind him.

The man wouldn’t let him, turning with him as much as it hurt his wounded leg. Hannibal, feeling exhausted of games, reached out and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, but he fought back. Just as he pressed the blade to the man’s neck, the man whipped his head back, cracking Hannibal in the nose. He staggered back, dropping the knife as blood gushed down his chin.

The trapped man took full advantage and scrambled for the blade as Hannibal fought against the pain. By the time he gathered his senses, the man had the knife and was waving it around manically. Hannibal kept his distance as the blood continued to trickle, staining the front of his suit. He looked for an opening, a way to regain control, but when he reached out to grab the man’s flailing wrist, the blade dug into the flesh of his right forearm.

Hannibal refrained from crying out, instead backing away as the man withdrew the knife. The blood pooled in his sleeve, staining the fabric and covering his hand as it dripped down. He wondered which of them would bleed out first when a blur ran up behind the frantic man and swiftly slit his throat. Will knocked him to the ground as he gurgled for breath, painting the green forest floor red.

Will grabbed the knife from his limp fingers in case he had one last burst of life left in him and immediately turn his attention to the hurt Hannibal. He reached out to his face, hesitating as Hannibal flinched away slightly. Yet, Will still cupped his face in his hands, examining his nose and the blood drying around it with a concerned expression.

“I’m fine,” Hannibal said, trying to pass it off as nothing.

“He broke your nose,” Will sighed. “How are we going to explain that one?”

Hannibal smirked. “Especially rough sex?”

Will couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re in bad shape. You might need stitches in your arm.”

“Surely it’s not that bad,” he said, gingerly rolling up his sleeve to look.

The blood trapped in his sleeve dispersed as he freed it, spilling out onto the plants below. Will used a careful hand to wipe away the blood around the wound so he could get a better look. Hannibal’s muscles tightened from pain as Will poked and prodded the cut, even though he did it as gently as possible.

“You’re definitely going to need stitches,” Will declared. “There’s a-ah, a first aid kit in the car. It should hold until we get everything squared away.”

Hannibal reached out with his bloody hand and held Will’s face, brushing his cheek with his thumb. “If that’s what you think is best.”

Will clasped his hand, pulling it from his face so he could kiss his palm. “I do.”

He held onto his hand, ignoring the layer of blood between their skin, and grabbed the chain to the bear trap so he could drag the body of the man back to their car. They would go back later to clean up the mess they left behind, only after Will made absolutely sure Hannibal was okay because he was all that mattered.

 

“You actually told the doctor that it was rough sex!?” Will hissed as they walked into Hannibal’s home.

“What was I supposed to say?” Hannibal asked, appearing truly at a loss for any other explanation. 

The area around his nose started to bruise and it was still visible under the cast taped to hold the bone in place. The wound on his arm had been cleaned, disinfected, and stitched, but overall Hannibal still looked worse for wear. 

“I don’t know, that you got into a fight?” he said as he shut the door and left his coat on the nearby rack.

“How would that look in regards to my profession as a psychiatrist?” Hannibal struggled out of his own jacket and Will was quick to help him.

“How does that look in regards to me?” Will complained.

“Will, you worry too much,” Hannibal said, grabbing his chin and using a gentle thumb to stroke the stubble. “She is bound by a confidentiality agreement.”

Will looked like he wanted to say more but Hannibal stopped him with a kiss. Everything he’d been about to say disappeared from his thoughts as the simple kiss sent his heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. Hannibal parted from him, leaving Will wanting more but too timid to ask.

Hannibal was the only force in the world left to keep him held together. Without him, he would crumble into dust. He would become the unstable man he had nightmares about every night. So, Will relied on him like a crutch or a drug, not just because he loved him, but because he was afraid of falling apart. He was also afraid of making a misstep that would cause him to leave.

He watched as Hannibal walked toward the kitchen so he could take care of that days catch but Will followed after him, concern radiating off him in waves. Hannibal turned to look at Will as soon as he entered the kitchen, looking exasperated in response to the concern he knew Will was feeling.

“I’m just fine, Will. A scratch and a broken nose will not impede my work.”

“Let me do it. You need to rest and heal,” Will said, closing the distance between the two of them. “Please. Let me take care of you.”

Hannibal sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All right. If you’re so insistent, I’ll allow it. For now.”

Will set to work on brewing some tea while Hannibal sat in a nearby chair, watching him rush around the kitchen. When it was ready, he handed a steaming cup to Hannibal, no milk, two sugars, just how he liked it. He watched expectantly as he took the first sip, making sure that he did it right. Relief spread through him when Hannibal smiled up at him, even if it was only to appease Will’s nerves. 

He cleaned up the kitchen as Hannibal finished off the tea. Will didn’t even notice when he stood from the chair and put the cup in the dishwasher. It was only brought to his attention when Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will’s waist, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his neck. 

A chill ran over his skin, raising bumps as he stole a sharp intake of breath. He dropped the rag he was using to clean off the counters and turned in Hannibal’s hold to face him. He didn’t even have time to register what was going on before Hannibal started kissing him. There was nothing he could do but give into it, kissing back while taking care to avoid touching Hannibal’s nose. Hannibal’s hands wandered down and grabbed Will’s thighs, lifting him up and setting him back down on the counter without breaking the kiss.

Will reached up and grabbed Hannibal’s face to slowly pull him away. Hannibal’s eyes looked dark and displeased. He wasn’t finished with Will but Will knew he had to be the caretaker, even if he didn’t really want to stop.

“You can’t be lifting me like that. You’ll pop your stitches.”

“What are a few stitches to this?” Hannibal said, his voice edged in heavy darkness.

“A lot,” Will said, still holding Hannibal’s face in his hands. “Please go lay down. Rest. I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Hannibal stared at Will, through him, but it didn’t make him uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. He liked that he could read him so well, that he knew him so well when no one else could.

“Fine,” Hannibal reluctantly conceded. “For you.”

“Thank you.”

Will kissed Hannibal softly before letting him go. He watched him, making sure he went into the bedroom, and hopped off the counter to finish cleaning it. Once he was done, he brought out the day’s kill and started to make dinner, just as Hannibal taught him.


	5. Chapter 5

A swift cut. The blade glides across her throat and she has no time to scream. Will’s pupils dilate. He enjoys it. In the moment, he savors it, but the moment after he feels sick. Her body drops. A sea of red curls mingling with her blood. It pools around his shoes, growing higher. He looks down at his hands, stained red, a knife in his right hand, dripping jewels.

He drops the knife into the mess at his feet and the blood consumes it as the level continues to rise. He wipes as his hands, looking for the flesh underneath, but he can’t find it. His palms, gleaming red, tattooed forever so everyone will know. A great stag enters the room and stands there, watching, eyes shining. 

Will approaches it, wading through the blood that is knee high, and reaches out. He touches it, running his hands over its hide. His hands come away clean, the red staining its bristles. Its nose nudges into the center of Will’s chest, pushing him back. It keeps going, pushing him across the room and into a wall, and it steps back. The two stare at each other for a long, poignant moment before the elk lowers its head and rams it’s antlers through Will’s chest.

He gasps, hands clasping around the antler that pierced his heart, and he feels himself slip away.

Will jolted awake, his chest heaving with each deep, ragged breath. He was covered in sweat and could see the sheen on his skin under the moonlight. He couldn’t hear anything but his breathing and his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt disoriented; he couldn’t quite remember where he was, only that he wasn’t home. He wasn’t in his own bed.

Each breath seemed more useless than the last, unable to calm him or provide him with air. When a foreign hand placed itself on his chest just over his heart, he jumped, looking to his right to see Hannibal lying there, cast on his bruised and broken nose. He was saying something but it was muffled. Hannibal sat up and brought Will with him, rubbing precise circles into his back until he calmed down.

Will relaxed into his hand, his breathing and heartbeat slowly evening out. Hannibal backed off as Will removed his shirt, unsticking it from his skin and making him a little more comfortable. He sat for a few seconds before climbing out of bed to air out his sweat-soaked flesh. Hannibal watched his every movement as he walked around the bed to stand in front of the window on the left wall and ran his hands through his damp curls.

“Will, come back to bed,” Hannibal said, holding out his hand to him.

Will glanced toward him and shook his head, continuing to do so as he turned away. Hannibal slipped from the bed, adjusting his shirt from its slightly twisted position before approaching Will. He grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him to the edge of the bed, coercing him to sit down. Once Will was settled, he pulled up a red armchair from the corner of the room to sit opposite him.

“Are we going to have a session right now?” Will said with a humorless laugh.

“I don’t want this to be a session for you, Will. I just want to talk as two men in a relationship. I want to know what’s wrong,” Hannibal said earnestly.

Will nodded, feeling the truth there, before rubbing his face hard with his hands as if he could scrub away the nightmare. Hannibal waited patiently for Will to gather himself and his thoughts, which Will greatly appreciated. He only had the vaguest idea of what the dream might’ve meant, if anything at all, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Hannibal thought on the matter.

“I’ve just been having nightmares. Again,” Will explained, not meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

“What are they about?” Hannibal said, leaning forward to match Will’s position. “What scares you about them?”

Will stared hard at Hannibal, reading the lines in his face and finding nothing as well as everything. It was the everything that he chose to ignore. “They all have similar elements.”

“Such as?” Hannibal pried.

“There’s this… stag,” Will began, causing Hannibal to cock his head to the side, listening with interest. Will could’ve sworn his eyes widened for a brief moment. “It’s usually there, doing nothing of importance really, just watching. But this time… This time it attacked me.”

Hannibal threaded his fingers together and leaned back in his seat. “What was different about this one?”

Will rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how much he should tell him. He wrung the blood from his hands, fidgeting with his thoughts as Hannibal kept his steady eyes on him.

“All of the others, they were about the cases I was working on. I was still in the mindset of the killers. I…”

“You dreamt of killing the victims in your cases,” Hannibal deciphered.

Will nodded. “But in this one, it was just me. It wasn’t a case, I wasn’t thinking like a killer. I was the killer. This hasn’t happened since… Well, since we got together.”

Hannibal considered Will for a moment before standing from his chair and walking over to sit beside Will on the bed. He held out his left hand, palm up, and Will grabbed it, intertwining their fingers. Hannibal pressed the top of Will’s hand to his lips before covering it with his free hand.

“William, I think you’re reading too much into your dreams. If anything, the stag and the killings are representations of your clashing morality. You still harbor an unconscious resistance to what you do now, even though you know it’s better for you.”

Will rubbed the sleep from his eyes before daring a glance at Hannibal. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am,” Hannibal said. “Now, come back to bed.”

“Thank you,” Will said with a nod as he stood up and walked around to his side of the bed.

Hannibal did the same, sliding beneath the covers so he could catch up on sleep before dawn broke. Will tried to keep to his own side but he couldn’t find sleep that way. He felt cold and alone and a little bit scared at what he might see when he closed his eyes. After a half hour of failed attempts, he turned to Hannibal and rested his head on his chest.

Hannibal immediately tensed at the touch and it worsened when Will slipped an arm over his waist. The tension didn’t last long, though, and soon Hannibal relaxed, his heart beating at a calm, soothing pace at Will’s ear. Will relaxed too, the cold and loneliness melting away as Hannibal wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Soon, he fell asleep and he dreamt of nothing.


End file.
